


Daughters of Sons

by AmbrosiaRush



Series: Nomad Series [6]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Daughters, Daughters Of Sons, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, Siblings, adorableness, father/daughter moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 21,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbrosiaRush/pseuds/AmbrosiaRush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who your father is matters greatly and when he's a member of SOA it can affect every aspect of your life. **Can be read at any point during the series/ can be read separate from series.**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fawn-One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of one-shots. While they will be chronological by character but they might not be chronological all together (All stories tagged 'Fawn' will be in order, but the order might not be chronological between Fawn and Kerrianne for example.) I really wanted to explore these daughters and how the club life/ their fathers affect them, so TADA! Also, for those who read the rest of my SOA stories (Years Gone By/ Equilibrium) this does go with it and so there will be some OC daughters as well as cannon.

Age seven is naïve enough to have hope but old enough to know better.

"Your daddy is coming to visit." The simple proclamation from their mother caused a burst of excitement in the two young sisters. "Go get dressed."

The two girls ran giggling down the hall and into the room they shared. Being older and taller, Fawn had the top two drawers while her three year old sister Dawn had the bottom two. Fawn grabbed a t-shirt, pink underpants and blue jeans. She looked down to spot her sister pulling out everything. "Dawn! Stop. I'll help, just wait."

"Dress!" Dawn picked up the white dress with multi-coloured polka-dots.

"Okay, just wait!" Fawn changed out of her black nightgown, a repurposed t-shirt of her mother's, and into the clothes she'd picked out. She then helped pull the little green nightgown that had once been hers over her sister's head. The responsibility of her younger sister had been hers for as long as she could remember. She got Dawn dressed and lead her to the bed. "Sit down and I'll do your hair."

"Okay." Dawn fought to get up onto the bed and Fawn pushed her sister up. "T-ank you."

Fawn nodded and opened the drawer on the nightstand that sat between their beds. Inside she found a hairbrush, a comb, a handful of hair elastics and a couple of headbands. She grabbed the brush and climbed up on the bed and dutifully combed out the knots in her sister's hair.

"Daddy here?"

"Not yet," Fawn responded struggling to get a knot out without hurting Dawn. Fawn's lips pressed tightly together. She missed her dad, their trips to the park and to the little ice cream parlour down the street. His visits were few and far between. Sometimes he said he was coming but never showed up.

Fawn sighed as she watched her little sister. Dawn had her nose pressed to the glass of the bay window in the front, watching and waiting for their father to arrive. A rumble of a motorcycle had Dawn bouncing on her toes and Fawn to the window to look out alongside her sister. The motorcycle was blue and drove right by. "It's not Dad," Fawn said, deflating a bit. "Come on, time for lunch."

"Where mommy?"

"She's getting ready for Daddy," Fawn replied patiently as she led her sister to the kitchen. "Sandwich?"

"Crackers!"

Fawn shrugged and opened the cabinet, she stood on her tip-toes and grabbed a sleeve of vegetable crackers. She grabbed a couple of juice boxes from the fridge and they sat at the table together eating, both listening for the sound of a motorcycle.

"Dawn! Be quiet!" Their mother shouted.

Fawn saw her little sister's bottom lip begin to quiver and knew tears were next. Their mother was not tolerant to tears. "Come on, Dawny. Let's colour a picture for Dad."

Dark brown eyes lit up and Dawn nodded. "Okay!"

Crayons and colouring books ended up scattered on the floor of their room. Fawn worked on a picture of a cat while her sister scribbled colours in and around a turtle.

Fawn's eyes shifted to a picture on their shared nightstand. A picture sat framed of her father with a newborn Dawn and a young Fawn up on his knee. Both she and her father were staring down at the little bundle in his arms. She yearned for her father. She wanted to be tucked in at night and a kiss to her forehead. She wanted ice cream before dinner. She wanted the deep voice reading stories, complete with different voices for all the characters. She wanted her mom to smile again. She wanted the house to feel good for a change.

"Fawn! Look!" Dawn held up the colouring book to show off the turtle. Pink, blue and yellow predominately made up the squiggling marks that counted as Dawn's attempts at colouring.

"Good job."

With a smug smile, Dawn looked over at the cat that her big sister coloured. "Pretty kitty."

"Thanks."

Dawn pushed her dark curls back from her face and turned toward the door. "Daddy here?"

Straight hair swung as Fawn shook her head. "No, not yet."

The girls sat on their knees and plucked weeds from the garden. Or that had been Fawn's desire. Her sister didn't understand weeding and instead plucked flowers. "Dawn, no. We need to pluck the weeds. The clovers and the grass," Fawn pointed the weeds out. "You can pick the dandelions, okay?"

Dawn frowned. "No. Like these," she announced pointing to the little bouquet of blooms.

"Those are Mom's flowers," Fawn argued, her head tilting up slightly with superiority. "We can't pick Mom's flowers."

"Did."

Fawn blew her bangs from her eyes. "Shouldn't."

Dawn sat, holding the little bouquet, and leaned against her sister. "Sleepy."

"Come on, you can nap."

"Daddy?"

"I'll wake you up."

"Promise?" Dawn beseeched.

Before Fawn could reply the back door opened and both girls jumped. Fawn quickly ripped the flowers from her sister's hand. Her dark eyes turned to where their mother stood. Dark clothing, dark hair, angry face. "Fawn Trager! Are you picking my flowers?"

"I thought we could just-" her false excuse died on her tongue as her mother stormed over and grabbed her but he upper arm and hauled her up.

"Dawn," their mother had the voice of pure authority. "In the house." The little girl pouted but walked toward the door, her dress, now dirty, blowing in the breeze. Fawn felt small when her mother's green eyes turned on her. "What have I told you?"

"I'm sorry, I just though-"

"Stop!" The already bruising grip tightened and Fawn's eyes welled with tears. "Weed the garden- that is your chore. Do not touch the flowers. I thought even such a child as stupid as you would understand those instructions!"

"I'm sorry, Mom."

Her mother scoffed. "Get in the house. And wash your hands!"

The second the firm hand released, Fawn ran to the house. Dawn stood waiting with big eyes, too young to understand. "Hurt?" she asked pointing at the big red mark on Fawn's arm.

"I'm okay," Fawn insisted. She gave her sister a hug to reassure her, but really she just wanted someone to comfort her, someone to hold onto. "We need to wash our hands. Come with me, Dawn."

The sun setting lit the sky up with beautiful shades of yellow, pink, purple and blue. Dinner had been eaten in silence. A movie had been thrown into the VHS player to keep the two girls entertained. Fawn didn't pay much attention to the movie, but she watched the sunset and then the blanket of stars take over the sky.

The phone rang and before her mother answered, Fawn knew. Disappointment sat heavily in her chest and she fought the urge to cry. Their mother's voice became angry but it went low. The phone got slammed down and Fawn glued her eyes to the television.

"Daddy?" Dawn asked innocently.

"He's not coming," their mother said as she stormed through the room, disappeared down the hall and a door slammed a second later.

Dawn sniffled a bit and looked to the window, ever hopeful it was some kind of mistake.

Fawn, however, curled up on the couch and hugged one of the pillows to her chest. At age seven, Fawn Trager was naïve enough to have hoped yet old enough to know better.


	2. Kerrianne- One

The three and a half year old Kerrianne waved to her mother as she walked off down the hall. Her father sighed and looked around miserably. Little Kerrianne, however, looked around with wonderment. Lights focussed on vibrant displays and she could hear the merry jingle of bells and Christmas carols playing. "Da?" Kerrianne pulled on her father's hand which she held for dear life. Her parents had instilled in her a fear of getting lost. "Santa here?"

"I don't know, Sweetheart. It's a little late, he might have gone home," Filip responded.

She walked alongside her father, her hand secure in his. Her other hand gripped the arm of her teddy bear that she never went anywhere without. The poor thing dragged along the floor, dirt matted its fur, and one of its eyes had gone missing after a trip through the wash that really didn't do much. On separate occasions both Filip and Fiona had tried to get her to part with it. They promised a new one, a better one but she stubbornly refused.

"How many days, Da?" Kerrianne asked. Her eyes locked on to the sparkly jewelry display.

"Fifteen."

The little girl sighed. "So many!"

"It's not many at all," Filip insisted as he led her through the jewelry store. "They will fly by."

"No they won't," Kerrianne whined. She dropped her teddy and immediately swooped down to grab him.

"Do you need me to carry him?"

"No." She shot him a distrusting look that made her father laugh. She thought her parents were trying to do away with Teddy. She adjusted her grip to hug him to her chest as they continued through the mall.

Her Da stopped to look at something but Kerrianne was too short to see into the case. Huffing out an annoyed breath she turned away and looked at the many people carrying shopping bags and coffee cups. Bored, she tugged on her father's hand. "Da!"

He swooped down and picked her up. She giggled and hugged Teddy between them. "Yes, dear?"

"Can we go to the toy store?"

Naturally, he wanted to get her a really wonderful Christmas gift. And naturally, as a full grown man, he had no idea what kind of toys little girls wanted. He nodded, she'd point him in the right direction and surely give him an entire list of ideas. "Sure, but we can't get anything today, okay. No gifts before Christmas, you don't want to mess up Santa's list, do you?" he asked tipping his head forward as his eyebrows shot up in question.

She smiled and shook her head. "Nope, I'm on the nice list."

"Of course you are," he said proudly. "Come on, let's go see some toys, yeah?" She beamed up at him and nodded enthusiastically, her curls bobbing with the movement.

He should have known better. Kerrianne dragged him around the toy store pointing out numerous toys from board games (she surely wouldn't know how to play but apparently the box looked fun), to plush unicorns, to dolls, to paint sets. She stopped in front of an Easy Bake Oven and stared. Filip felt dread fill his system. He cursed under his breath. "Come on, Kerrianne."

"Da," the voice started low but he could see a fight brewing. She had her mother's stubbornness and, unfortunately, his temper which created the perfect storm.

"Kerrianne, we agreed."

"Da! Please, I want it!"

"No, Kerri."

"Da! Please!"

"No," Filip remained firm even as her dark eyes welled with tears.

"Please, Da! I wanna make the cake!"

"Kerrianne, no!"

She took a deep breath, a prelude to the screaming and crying that came next. She yelled and kicked out and waved her arms. Poor Teddy swung around violently and then flew through the air. Kerrianne stopped as she stared at Teddy who'd hit a display case and fallen to the floor. She then looked to her hand where his arm remained along with cotton stuffing poking out. With a look of horror she turned back to her father. Now, she cried for an entirely different reason. With great sobs of grief, she held out her arms in desperate need for the love and comfort of her father.

"Oh, Kerri."

"Da, Teddy." She sobbed as she was embraced and picked up by her father's strong arms. "Teddy's dead. I killed Teddy."

"No, no, darling," he soothed. "Teddy is fine."

"Is not," she sobbed holding the arm in front of his face as evidence. "I broke him!"

"Well," he crouched down, still holding his girl, and inspected the damage. He could offer to buy a new teddy bear, he could insist that this one was beyond repair. She cried, inconsolable in his arms thinking she'd 'killed' her bear. He couldn't have his three and a half year old feeling guilty about something she obviously cared so deeply for. "I'll fix him, okay?"

"Kerri?" Fiona had come to the shop in search of gifts but upon hearing her daughter's cries she'd rushed over. "What's wrong?"

"Teddy broke his arm," Filip explained. He stood, keeping Kerrianne balanced on his hip, Teddy in his free hand. "This will require some surgery."

"Aye, seems it will," Fiona replied seriously. She ran a comforting hand over her daughter's hair. "Don't you worry one bit, Kerri. Your da was a medic once."

"Medic?"

"Like a doctor," Fiona explained and Filip struggled not to laugh. Medic for five months before being court-martialled wasn't at all 'like a doctor,' in Filip's opinion.

Their daughter nodded quite seriously. "Please Daddy, help Teddy. I wish for him for Christmas. Santa can forget my wish list. I just want Teddy."

His daughter looked so heartbreakingly serious that he sighed and held her tight. "Teddy will be fine," he promised.

Kerrianne stared at Teddy and his amputated arm laid out on the table. She fought the urge to cry. Her Da came over with his glasses, a needle and thread. She trusted him in a way only a daughter can with a father she worships. No need for tears when Da insisted it would be alright.

She watched as he snapped the thread, tried to get it through the eye of the needle but put both down so he could get his glasses on. He tried again, able to see better now, he succeeded. Kerrianne leaned forward as her father started to sew Teddy back together again. She covered her eyes with her hands and then peeked through her fingers. Poor Teddy! She sniffled a bit and rubbed tears from her eyes. It didn't take too long before her Da finished.

Her Da checked the work out and gave the arm a little tug. Finding it secure he nodded. "There, all done."

She reached out and gripped the familiar matted fur. She brought Teddy close and nuzzled. "I'm so sorry, Teddy. I'll take better care of you from now on, I promise!" She caught her father looking on with a small smile on his face. She smiled back, although tears still clung to her lashes. "Thanks, Da. I love you."

He kissed the center of her forehead. "I love you more."


	3. Brooklyn-One

The footsteps in the hallway didn't bother Brooklyn. She waited patiently in bed until she heard the door down the hall close. She heard her mother's laugh and hushed voices. With a smile, she kicked down her blankets and got out of bed. She carefully made her way across the room and heard her mother gasp and then more hushed voices followed by a rhythmic _'thump, thump, thump_.' Once, she'd been startled by the sounds of her Mom and one of her friends playing and went in to see. She didn't like the look of the game and she'd gotten into big trouble. Now, she knew as long as she heard _the 'thump, thump, thump,'_ she could stay up late and maybe finally get those knots out of her Barbie's hair.

She turned on the light and waited a second, half expecting to get caught. She grabbed her favourite Barbie and sat down close to the light switch. "Time to fix your hair. Mom says it looks awful." Brooklyn gave her doll a close inspection. "It is kind of a mess," she conceded at last. "But I can fix it, don't worry." She hummed as she meticulously worked her way through the knots.

Her stomach rumbled, distracting her from her task. Her mommy's playdate had just started so she left her Barbie and tip-toed all the way to the kitchen. "Cookies," she whispered to herself with a big smile. She grabbed two from the pack and closed it up.

Three loud knocks didn't come from the same direction of her mother's room and Brooklyn froze. Her heart beat rapidly in panic and she hurried to hide under the kitchen table. Four loud knocks and Brooklyn held the cookies so tight they started to crumble.

"Helena!" A man bellowed from outside. Brooklyn cowered under the table, thankful for the tablecloth that partially hid her from view. "Helena!"

"He isn't just going to go away!" Her mother's voice came down the hall. "So put your pants on!"

"Open the fucking door!" The man outside shouted.

She watched her mother in a slinky black nightgown walk past. Brooklyn held her breath until she heard the hinges on the front door screech.

"Where is she?" The man demanded as he stepped in. Brooklyn swallowed hard. The man was a giant with long hair, a big beard and his face was red with anger.

"Quiet down! It's nearly ten!" Her mother snarled. "You can't be here, Rane."

The man paced and Brooklyn got her first look at the reaper. Fear struck her in the heart and she dropped the cookies in favour of wrapping her arms around her knees as she tried to make herself as small as possible. Her mother's friend walked out and looked nervous. The big man didn't say anything, he just grabbed the other man, shoved him outside and slammed the door.

"You can't be here and you certainly can't be throwing out my guest!" her mother said with her hands on her hips.

The big, scary man towered over her mother. "She is my daughter!"

Brooklyn didn't understand that what had just been proclaimed was in reference to her. All she heard was the loud and frightening voice of the man. Her lower lip quivered and she put her hand over her mouth to muffle her cry.

The arguing stopped and a second later her mother lifted up the table cloth and looked right at her. "Christ. Now you've done it, Rane! You've scared her. Good job." Her mother reached out a hand. "Come here baby." Brooklyn hurried out from under the table and jumped into her mother's awaiting arms. "Don't worry, Sweetheart." Her mother's hand ran soothingly over Brooklyn's head. "Everything is okay." Tears blurred her vision and she held onto her mother tightly.

"Just let me see her," Rane insisted and her mother's arms tightened around her tiny body. She felt safe there, held by the only parent she'd ever known. "She's my daughter, Helena!"

"I got full custody when you went to prison." Her mother's eyes cut sharply to Rane. "Now get the hell out of my house!"

Brooklyn held tightly to her mother but turned to look at the strange man once again. Clearly, he was not leaving. He gave her a nervous smile. "Hey Sweetie," he said roughly. "I'm your dad." Brooklyn stared with wide eyes. She'd gone her entire life without a father. Her mother refused to tell her anything about him when asked.

"Unbelievable," her mother whispered and set Brooklyn down before storming off.

"Mom!" Brooklyn cried out in a panic. She didn't want to be left with the stranger! The fear left her trembling as tears streaked down her chubby cheeks. "Mommy!"

Rane crouched down but made no move to touch the obviously frightened girl. "Brooklyn, it's okay. I wouldn't ever hurt ya."

Brooklyn looked at the hall her mother disappeared down and back to the man who said he was her dad. She stood, frozen and afraid. She took a timid step away from the man and heard him sigh. She'd always wanted a daddy but never thought hers would be so big and scary. She sniffled and ran the back of her hand under her nose.

His eyes cut to the table. "Why were you hiding?"

She made a circle with her toe on the ground as she avoided eye contact. "I was getting cookies."

He smiled. "You want cookies?" Her dark eyes turned to him and she nodded her head, just once. "Do you know where they are?" He asked. Once again, she nodded and pointed to the cupboard. He stood and she stumbled back at his terrifying height. He left boot prints on the floor as he grabbed the bag of cookies and opened it. He sat down on the kitchen floor and put the cookies out in front of him like a peace offering.

She took one step toward him, and then another. "So you're my dad?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"Where were you?" she asked quietly and looked ready to bolt at any second.

"I did something bad and I got in trouble."

"Time-out?" Brooklyn asked, her nose wrinkling up.

He grinned. "Yeah, I got put in time-out."

She nodded and plopped her butt down on the floor across from him and grabbed a cookie. "I didn't think big people could be put in time-out."

"Only when we're very naughty."

"I got put in time-out for drawing on the walls," she whispered conspiratorially. "What did you do?"

He froze, wondering how to explain such a thing to a child. In that moment he realized that being a father wasn't going to be as easy as he'd once assumed.


	4. Trinity- One

Trinity frowned as the woman pinched her cheeks. "What a darling wee lass you have, Maureen."

"Aye. Your total is six fifty," Maureen replied.

The moment the woman released her, six year old Trinity Ashby scurried behind the counter and grabbed her doll. She hugged it close to her chest and shot the woman a glare. She liked some customers, a few bought her little candies but she hated the ones who pinched her cheeks or ruffled her hair. "I don't like her," she admitted the second the bell jingled above the door.

"She's a good customer," her ma replied. "That's what matters here."

Poking her head out from around the counter she looked around for anymore cheek-pinching customers but at three in the afternoon, the shop was empty. "Can I have a candy, Ma?"

"No, you had one only ten minutes ago. You're going to rot all your teeth right outta your head, is that what you want?"

With a horror stricken face, Trinity shook her head, her straight blonde hair swinging out with the movement. The bell above the door made her jump and she turned to assess the newest customer. She dropped her doll and a big smile came upon her face. "Uncle K!"

Father Kellan Ashby crouched to catch the running girl. "Ah, my best lass. How are you today, Trinity?"

She gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. "Good! I didn't know you were coming to visit!"

"Sadly, I just need to pick up a few things and must be on my way, wee one."

He put her back down on her feet and noticed her pout. "How about I get you a candy?"

"Ma says if I have any more my teeth will fall out," she muttered miserably.

Maureen chuckled as she walked around the counter. "Brother, good to see you well."

"You too, Mo," he replied and gave his sister a brief hug. "Looking for these," he said passing her a list. "Help me along?"

"This shop hasn't changed since it opened, long before either of us worked in it and yet you still can never find a damn thing."

He shrugged and she shook her head before walking off with the list. He returned his attention to his niece. "Is that a new doll?"

"Yeah," Trinity replied as she went to retrieve it. "Ma got her for me for my birthday. I named her Saoirse."

"Well, that is a beautiful name," Kellan replied. "Very patriotic. Do you know what that name means?" Trinity shook her head and looked up curiously at her uncle. "It means freedom."

"Ma says that my Da fought for freedom," Trinity said catching her uncle off guard.

"Did she, now?"

"Aye. I asked about my Da last night," Trinity said. The burning curiosity had become impossible to ignore. "Did you know my Da, Uncle K?"

Kellan looked around for his sister but he didn't see her. "No, I didn't."

"Ma got sad when she talked about him. Is she sad because he's dead?"

Kellan closed his eyes and went over a brief prayer for strength. "Well, it does make people very sad to lose someone they love."

"Did my Da go to heaven, Uncle K?"

He ran his hand gently over her fine hair. "I'm sure he did, sweet lass."

"Alright, brother," Maureen called from the till. "I got your stuff."

"Ma, you don't have to be sad," Trinity said holding Saoirse in her arms. "Uncle K said that Da went to heaven." Maureen stared stricken at her daughter and then turned her glossy eyes on Kellan. She swallowed hard and continued ringing through the items. "Ma, why do you still look sad? He's in heaven so he is happy and safe and with God."

"Well, when someone goes to heaven, those of us still here miss that person. It can make you feel sad," Kellan told his niece to spare his sister. "Even though you can't remember your Da, you still ask about him, in your own way, you miss him too."

"Yeah," she admitted softly. "I wish I had a Da. Fiona and Filip visited last night and they have a little girl and Filip looks like he loves her a whole bunch. He even played with her bear with her and made funny faces. I wish I had a Da like that."

Kellan crouched down in front of Trinity. "It is sad that your Da is gone but don't you think you're very lucky to have such a good Ma?"

Trinity nodded immediately. "Ma tucks me in at night and plays with me and never makes me eat cabbage."

Kellan chuckled and glanced over at his sister. "I think your Ma might need a hug."

The young girl looked over at her saddened mother. She dropped her doll and rushed over to wrap her arms around her mother. "Don't cry, Ma. I love you."

Arms tightened around in response. "Oh, I love you too, sweet lass."


	5. Ellie-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short. More of an experiment with style than anything.

Leather and gasoline. She loves the scent of both. Sometimes, the scent of smoke is also added to the potent mix.

Coarse and smooth. She loves the feel of both. The scratchy feel of his jaw but there the skin of his cheek is so soft.

Rugged and handsome. She loves the look of both. There is security in his strength and a kindness in his eyes and smile.

Gruff and powerful. She loves to hear the combination. Excitement builds inside of her when the door opens and that voice follows.

"Donna, I'm home."

"Dad!" As always, three year old Ellie runs into the awaiting arms of her father who lifts her up.

"Hi Ellie."

She can smell the leather and gasoline. She nuzzles against his cheek and feels both the coarse facial hairs and smooth skin. She leans back and takes his cheeks in his hands and admires the smile on her father's face before she wraps her arms back around his neck and enjoys the security of being held in his arms.


	6. Dawn-One

Six year old Dawn Trager wore her favourite dress, the purple one, a hand-me-down from her older sister and her light up sneakers. It was a special day after all, one of the few where she got to see her father. He had taken her and Fawn to a local diner for lunch and Dawn bounced on her toes in excitement. Behind the counter stood a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and a dirty apron who waited for them to make a decision. A fan in the corner blew the scent of fried chicken around and it made her stomach rumble. Dawn turned to the sister she worshipped. Fawn didn't look quite as happy, in fact, Fawn looked kind of sad. Reaching out, Dawn took her sister's hand.

Fawn squeezed and sent her little sister a smile. "Do you know what you want?"

Dawn nodded, her dark curls bouncing with the movement. "Ice cream."

A look of dread passed over Fawn's face and she pulled Dawn close. "You know that isn't allowed," she reminded in a hushed voice.

"Ice cream sounds great," Tig said with an easy laugh.

Fawn looked confused. Dawn laughed and she abandoned the comfort of her sister for the moment wanting to be closer to her father. It was so rare that he came around, but he'd surprised them and pulled them out of school to spend the day with him. Their dad was the coolest. He didn't have the same rules as their mom, or even the same rules that Fawn had. "Get ice cream, Fawn!" Dawn enticed. "They have chocolate! You like chocolate!"

Fawn timidly turned to their father. "Can I get fries?"

He smiled and affectionately ruffled her straight hair which she quickly sorted back to rights. "Get whatever you want, Sweetie."

Dawn took the offer to heart. She got the banana split; three scoops of ice cream, two bananas, peanuts, chocolate sauce, and strawberries on top. She felt on top of the world. Her daddy helped to eat her ice cream lunch and she turned to her sister and offered her spoon. "Have some!"

Fawn pushed around the last couple of fries and shook her head. "We should be in class."

"Hey, things like this don't happen every day," Tig argued. Sure, he hadn't asked their mother, showed up unannounced and pulled his daughters out of class, but he didn't do it every day. Besides, they were in what? First and third grade? How old were they anyway? He studied his youngest, five maybe six he decided, she took after him; dark eyes, like their mother, but the curls came from the Trager line. He turned to his eldest, she looked about seven. That couldn't be right unless he guessed Dawn's age wrong. Or maybe he had how many years were between them wrong. In any case, Fawn was the image of her mother and had the nerves of kicked puppy. Maybe he would have worried more if Dawn acted the same but she seemed perfectly well adjusted.

"Mom's going to be angry," Fawn muttered.

"Mom's always angry," Dawn complained. Her stomach ached but the Sundae was so good she kept eating.

Tig shifted in his seat before scooping up another spoonful of ice cream, after all the kid couldn't possibly eat it all. "What does your mom do when she's angry?"

"Yells and stuff," Dawn said with a careless shrug only to get a light kick from her sister across the table. She looked to Fawn to see the warning glare.

"Is that so?" Tig studied his youngest, but she didn't seem concerned.

"We should go back to school," Fawn insisted.

"I don't want to go back to school!" Dawn protested loudly. She didn't want the day with their dad to end so quickly, besides, she had math and she didn't like it one bit.

"Well, where do you want to go?" Tig asked.

Dawn beamed up at him. "The park!"

"Then we will go to the park!"

Dawn smiled. _Best. Day. Ever._

::

Dawn took off in a mad run to the play set. It was tall and long; built of wood, nail and chain- all of which could leave you with injury if you fell in the wrong place. There was a rickety bridge, a ladder, two fireman's poles, a look out, a steering wheel and two metal slides. You were pretty much guaranteed to leave with a burnt butt and splinters but to Dawn Trager it was the most magical place on Earth.

She giggled and swung around the fireman's pole and her father followed in suit. She laughed and jumped up and down. Their mother never played with them like this. The few times she got to go to the park was when Fawn took her and it was a very long walk that left her tired by the time they got there. "Come on, Daddy, let's go on the slide!"

He laughed but followed her to the ladder. "Come on, Fawn," Tig enticed.

The girl's willpower waned and she joined her father and sister for an afternoon of play.

::

"I hardly even see them!" Tig roared. The tension in the living room became oppressive as the two former lovers went to war with one another.

Fawn put her arm over her sister's shoulder defensively. "Come on, let's go to our room."

Dawn didn't want to. Her parents were arguing. They always argued when they got together. Her lower lip trebled. They didn't love each other anymore.

"They need to be in school, Alex!" their mother shouted in return, poking their father hard in the chest. "I don't work my ass off all day for these two only to find out they haven't even been in school!"

"I pay for them," he snapped.

"What you occasionally send doesn't even cover their fucking school clothes! Do you have any idea how expensive children are?" She threw her hands up in the air and let out a bitter laugh. "Of course not! You're never fucking here!"

"Dawn," Fawn insisted pulling on her sister. "Room. Now."

"No," Dawn whispered fearfully. "They're arguing. Daddy will go away again and we won't-" a sob got caught in her throat. She got pulled into her sister's embrace and let herself be led to their shared room. For comfort, she huddled in bed with her sister and sniffled. She hoped that maybe this time her parents would work things out. Maybe this time, Daddy would stay.

A slammed door and the roar of the big truck their father had driven them around in announced his departure. Dawn felt as if a hole had been created in her chest. Her daddy was gone and she had no idea when she would see him next. She wanted more comfort, needed it but their mother yelled for them.

"Stay here," Fawn told her with dry eyes. She pulled the blanket up over her little sister. "I'll be back in a minute."

"No," Dawn protested weakly.

"Just stay here, Dawn." Fawn kissed Dawn's temple. "Just stay here."

Dawn covered her ears when she heard her mother yelling again and cried herself to sleep in her sister's bed.


	7. Indiana-One

As the sun dipped low on the horizon of Red Willow, it painted the sky and the clouds in hues of orange, pink and blue. A gentle breeze played with the wind chimes that hung from the red-brick bungalow, creating a natural melody. All seemed peaceful but inside that house, a battle of wills commenced.

Indiana's hands balled up into fists as she stared up at her father. "But Daddy! I don't want you to go!" She stomped her foot in a physical display of her temper. She hated it when he went left.

"I know, but I have to," Quinn replied as he tied his left boot.

She watched as he stood and grabbed his wallet off the dining table. "Daddy," she whined. "Can I come with you?"

"No, you can't. I might be gone a few days." He sighed and crouched down before his little girl. Hard to believe that she was only a few weeks away from being four years old. "I need you to be good for Tink and Martha."

Her stubborn jaw jutted out and her hands planted on her hips. "A few days!" For a child who thought 'five minutes' was _forever,_ days sounded like an eternity. "No," she held the word on a long wail. "You can't!"

"Indiana. Stop whining," he scolded. While she held his heart in her tiny hands, he wouldn't tolerate spoiled behaviour.

Fear came over the child in a wave of panic. The stubborn jut became a pout. A few blinks later tears welled in her eyes and her lower lip trembled. She rushed into his crouched form, wrapped her arms around his neck and openly sobbed. "No, Daddy! Don't go, I don't want you to go!"

He let out a long sigh, held his daughter close and picked her up as he stood. "Shh, it's going to be okay." He ran his hand over her short blonde hair, wisps that curled and stuck out in random directions completely ignorant to the laws of gravity. "It's only a couple of days."

The statement made her cry harder and she sucked in a breath. "That's forever! Why are you going away? Did I do something bad?"

"Oh, no. No, you didn't do anything." The fact that the thought even crossed her mind made his heart shatter. "You didn't do anything," he repeated. "But I have to go, okay? I have to take care of business."

She sniffled. "No," she remained petulant.

"Indie. I need you to be good while I'm gone," he told her sternly. "You clean up your toys, you eat your veggies and you don't kick up a fuss at bedtime. That's your business and I need you to take care of it. You're almost four. You're not a baby, right?"

"No, not a baby," she sulked.

"Good." He kissed her temple before he set her back down on her feet. "Love you, Little Anarchist."

She crossed her arms over her chest and averted her gaze to the wall. "Love you, too," she muttered back. He almost laughed, his kid sure could hold a grudge.

"Don't worry, Rane," Tink said as she leaned against the counter. "She's in good hands."

He flashed her a grin. "I know."

"Go!" Indiana glared at him and pointed at the door. "Go take care of business so you can come home fast."

"Alright, alright!" He put his hands up in surrender. "I'm going."

Not wanting to watch him leave, Indiana sulked off to the living room and distracted herself with sorting through her collection of Disney movies. The sound of the door shutting made her lip quiver. She sniffled and picked out _The AristoCats_ one of her favourites _._ Tink's hand ran through her hair in a poor attempt to tame the unruly locks. She lifted the movie. "This one, please."

"Alright, Sweetie." Tink took the movie and opened the plastic VHS case. "Get on the couch. I'll get us some popcorn; how does that sound?"

"'Kay," the miserable child shrugged. She turned to watch Tink leave and then blew out an annoyed breath. Her eyes returned to the movies on the floor. "Take care of business," she muttered before she shoved them back on the shelf.


	8. Kerrianne- Two

Kerrianne sat proper in the shopping cart. When she'd been younger she'd merrily swung her legs and nearly put her father down for the count. Now, she had to sit nicely or he wouldn't take her to the market at all. She hugged Teddy close as they went down the frozen food section, her father occasionally stopping to throw an item or two into the cart.

She enjoyed the produce section and demanded peaches, a request her father honoured. However, he ignored her plea to leave the brussels sprouts behind.

A small sigh escaped as they headed into the bakery section. Fresh baked bread, decorative cakes, various muffins and pies. She wiggled in her seat as she tried to get a look at it all. "Muffins, Daddy?"

"What kind?" he asked as he stopped the cart. "Blueberry, Banana, Allspice Crumble, Oatmeal, or Zucchini."

"All of them," she replied innocently as she hugged Teddy closer.

He raised an eyebrow. "All of them?"

A small smile formed upon her face and grew. "Teddy wants to try them all."

"Oh, so it's all for Teddy, huh?" She grabbed the bears head and made it nod. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "Well, unfortunately, we can only get one."

Kerrianne sighed and weighted her options. "Blueberry."

"Good choice," he replied grabbing the box. "I think Teddy will approve."

By the time they got to the deli, she had bored of the trip and wriggled in her seat. "Da. I want down."

"We're almost done," he told her before he thanked the clerk and tossed in the lunch meat.

"Da!" she whined and wiggled again. "Down!"

"Fine," he replied, lifting her out. "But you stay close and don't touch anything."

"'Kay."

She walked a few steps behind her Da and stopped when he stopped. They filled the cart with milk and juice and butter.

"Ah, Hello, Filip."

She stepped closer to her father when he stopped. Grabbing his pant leg, she hid partially behind him, keeping Teddy tucked nicely under her arm.

"Jimmy," Filip replied with the ease of familiarity. "How are you?"

"Not bad," Jimmy smiled. "See you got the wee lass with you today." He bent slightly and waved at her. "Hello, Kerrianne."

Panic washed over her and she tucked herself further behind her father. "She's shy," Filip said with a bit of embarrassment. "Better get on with it before Fi has my hide for takin' so long."

Jimmy straightened out and nodded. "Aye. That you should. I'll see you around. Bye, Kerri."

Filip waited until Jimmy was out of earshot before he turned to Kerrianne. "What was that about?"

"What was what about?" she inquired shooting a dark look over her shoulder.

"You should have been more polite to Jimmy."

"I don't like him," she grumbled.

He paused a moment to look down at her. "Why's that?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I just don't. He talks to me like I'm a little kid."

"You're four," he replied with a laugh, pushing the cart once again. "You are a kid."

She huffed out a breath. Adults just didn't understand. She didn't yet understand the small social cues that caused her unease, the way Jimmy stood just too close to her Ma when her Da wasn't around, or the way he would walk in without knocking like he owned the place, or the way he'd brush his hand over her hair like he was her Da. Kerrianne didn't like it, but didn't know how to explain. So, she settled on what she did know. "Well, I don't like him."

Filip huffed out a breath. "Well, try to be nicer next time, okay? He's your Ma's friend and I work with him. Do it for me."

She let out a long suffering sigh. And because it was her father asking, she would.


	9. Indiana- Two

Four year old Indiana Quinn walked back into the living room as her father came in. She ignored him completely. Her sock-clad feet led her across the room where she grabbed her remote-controlled car and turned on her heel to return it to the toy box in her room.

Rane kicked off his boots as he watched his daughter return to the living room, pick up a doll and disappear once again down the hallway. He put his hands on his hips. Usually, his daughter would be overjoyed by his return, she would drop whatever she was doing and rush to him. The lack of a reaction left him incredibly disappointed. The homecoming ritual was typically the highlight of his day. He turned his attention to his woman.

Tink sat at the dining table, thankful for the open plan of the house so she could easily keep an eye on the very curious Indiana. She smiled at him and then took a sip of her coffee. "Hey, how was your day?"

"Good," he replied walking over to her and giving her a quick kiss. He watched as yet again, his daughter went into the living room, picked up a toy and retreated down the hall. "What is she up to?"

Hiding her grin with her mug, Tink shrugged. She took a small sip of coffee. "Why don't you ask her, Rane?"

He studied Tink, the mischievous smile and the way her tongue peeked out, caught between her teeth in effort not to laugh. Somehow, the expression made him nervous to confront his four year old- curiosity bettered him. He tracked Indiana's movements as she entered the room. Standing with his hands on his hips behind the couch he watched her kneel down and reach under the sofa to retrieve the remote for her toy car. When she stood, he finally spoke. "Indie, what ar-"

Her father's voice made her pause. She narrowed her eyes at him as she held up one hand. "I don't have time for you right now, Dad," she said as stern as she could manage. She crossed her arms, puffed out her chest and lifted her chin just slightly- something she had seen her father do a number of times. "Can't you see? I'm taking care of business!" She huffed out a breath. _Adults._ She proceeded to march back down the hall and deposit the toy in her room.

Rane stood frozen for a minute before he turned to look at Tink who nearly dropped her coffee as she laughed. "She takes after you," Tink commented only to fall back into hysterics.

"Heaven help me," Rane muttered.


	10. Ellie-Two

Prison.

One word.

Two syllables.

Definition: Where Daddy went and he can't come home.

Ellie doesn't understand it. Not fully. She just understands the tears her mother sheds because she feels the same way. Not that she fully understands the feeling either. She's too young to understand the extent of loneliness, the weight of dread, or the fact that her heart has broken for the first time.

The couch seems empty without her father sitting there with them. Kenny seems to cry louder without their father to soothe him. The dinner table seems too quite without his gruff voice or deep laugh. The dark seems scarier without him there to tuck her in and plug in her nightlight.

The first nights he's gone are the hardest. Her mother tucks her in, plugs in the nightlight but Ellie doesn't feel as safe with her mother's tiny form in the doorway wishing her sweet dreams. Later, she can hear her mother crying down the hall and the sound tugs on her heart. She hugs the bear her father bought her, squeezes it extra tight.

Forever.

One word.

Three syllables.

Definition: How long Daddy's been gone.

A month in the eyes of a four year old is a long time. Enough to fade the memory just enough to take the sting out of the pain. Enough time to feel comfortable sitting at the kitchen table with just her mom baby talking Kenny while she feeds him. Enough time to be comfortable with her mother tucking her in. Enough time for it all to seem normal. And slowly, slowly, the memories of her father fade.


	11. Dawn-Two

The screaming woke her from where she'd fallen asleep on the couch watching afternoon cartoons. With her heart pounding against her ribs, Dawn tossed aside the blanket and scurried to the kitchen. The blood made her feel faint as did the rare tears streaming down her sister's face. Her cold had made her feverish and sleepy all day and she couldn't hold back the cough that announced her.

"Oh, God," their mother grabbed a clean dishtowel from the drawer and wrapped it around and around Fawn's fingers. "Hold it in place, Fawn."

She did as she was told. "I'm sorry," she sobbed as the pain pulsed through her sliced fingers.

Her mother shushed her and ran a comforting hand through her hair. "You were just helping cut the potatoes, I know." She looked around and found her keys by the phone just as Dawn coughed again. "Shit. Shit!" She pulled the phone from the cradle and quickly dialed. "Alex," she breathed. "I need you. Fawn's hurt and Dawn's sick, I can't take her to a hospital full of sicker people. Yeah. Yeah, just hurry." She took a deep breath and straightened up a bit. "It's okay girls." She crouched in front of her youngest, barely six at the time. "Your dad is going to come and look after you, while I take Fawn to the doctors, okay."

She wished the circumstances were different. She felt guilty about her excitement she felt over seeing her father when the sister she idolized was hurt. "Okay," she replied, her throat still aching despite the medicine her mother made her drink. _Grape flavoured my butt_.

::

Dawn watched with an incredible amount of hope as her parents embraced. Mom had nearly tackled Dad when he'd come in, held on and they'd stayed for just a few seconds locked in that fierce hug. "I have to take Fawn," she managed when she stepped away. "Fawn, come on, Sweetie."

Tig ran his hand through Fawn's straight locks and looked at the blood that had soaked through the tea towel. She'd sliced herself good and he knew it. "You'll be alright, Darlin'."

Dawn watched her mother and sister leave through the window and then plopped back down on the couch. "Hi Daddy."

"Hi Dawny," he flopped down on the couch next to her. "I hear you're sick."

She sniffled. "Got a cold." Her nose wrinkled up in disgust. "Mom made me drink medicine."

He played with her curls absentmindedly as he stared at the tv screen trying to figure out the child's cartoon. "It'll help you feel better."

"It tastes gross."

"That's so you know it works."

She stuck out her tongue and felt the exhaustion pull on her again. She leaned against her father as she stared at the television. She would rather go to the park with him and play again, or they could play in the house, or maybe make a get well soon card for Fawn and even as she thought of all the wonderful things they could do, she fell asleep to the scent of tobacco and leather.

::

When she awoke again, she had a blanket tucked around her and she couldn't see her father. Noises in the kitchen made Dawn pull herself up and she shuffled over to the kitchen doorway, dragging the soft blanket as she walked. Her father had hung up his kutte on the back of a chair, he had crouched down and washed the last of the blood off the floor and him toss the bloody rag into a bucket of soapy water.

She sniffled, and this time it wasn't because of the cold. "Fawn's okay, right?"

He turned to her, studied the worry and picked up the bucket to dump in the sink. "She'll need stitches and then she'll be good as new." He washed his hands and dried them before turning around to see the horror on Dawn's face.

"Stitches?"

"Yeah, stitches."

"Mom stitched up my teddy bear," her voice pitched with worry. "With a needle and thread. They're going to do that to Fawn?"

"It's not quite the same," he said slowly. "She'll be okay."

"Promise?"

"Sure. I ordered pizza. Want to eat it on the couch and watch a movie?"

Their mother rarely let them eat even snacks in the living room. "Yeah!"

::

"What time do you usually go to bed?" he asked when the movie was over and he'd checked his watch to see it was nearly ten.

"When mom tells me to," Dawn replied. The half-eaten pizza still sat on the stool and looked as good as it had tasted two hours ago. "Want to watch another movie?"

"I bet you should be going to bed."

"No! Come on, no, I don't want to!"

"Dawn, come on."

"But Fawn isn't back yet!"

"She's going to be fine. Martina called an hour ago, the wait at the hospital is long but she'll be fine." He stood and picked her up. "Bed."

"But when I wake up, you'll be gone," she whimpered miserably and felt him sigh. He paused once he stood in the bedroom. "Which bed is yours?" She turned and pointed. Since she was already in her pajamas, he pulled back the blankets and laid her down. Odd, she'd grown so much, but it wasn't all that different from when he'd put her down in the crib for the first time. He pulled the blankets up and affectionately ran his hand through her hair. "Do you need anything?"

"No," she grumbled.

"Okay. Good night."

"Yeah." She watched as he walked away and she sat upright. "Wait." He paused and turned back to her. "Will you check under the bed?"

A rare soft smile graced his lips. "Sure, Dawny." He got down on all fours and looked under to find colouring books, dust bunnies, and lost crayons. "All clear."

"Fawn's too."

"Okay," he shifted so he could look under the other bed. A couple of girly hair clips, and a lost sock. He grabbed the glittery purple clip and put it in his hair as he turned. "It's good. How do I look?" The little girl giggled and then fell into a coughing fit. He removed the clip and set it on the nightstand that separated the beds. The framed photograph showed him with the newborn Dawn and a young Fawn up on his knee. He smiled when he picked it up. "Good picture," he mentioned turning it to her for a few seconds before he put it back. He again ran his hand through her wild curls. "Get some rest."

"I love you," she whispered as he walked out the door.

::

When she woke, the pale morning light came through the slits in the venation blinds. Across from her, Fawn was in her own bed, eyes tired but open. "You're back," Dawn whispered excitedly.

"Yeah."

"How is your hand?"

"Numb. They gave me some stuff so I didn't feel much."

"Did you see Dad?"

"A little but I was tired." Fawn smiled tiredly. "He tucked me in."

"Me too," Dawn grinned over and looked at the picture between them. "I miss him when he's gone." She expected her sister to agree and turned only to find her sister sleeping again.


	12. Brooklyn- Two

Three months since she'd met her father, and she hadn't seen him since. "Mom, I want to know where he is!"

"Well, I don't know," Helena replied crossly as she grabbed the tube of bold red lipstick from the counter and quickly swiped it over her lips. "Rane comes in, messes things up, and leaves. You shouldn't ever learn to depend on a man." She fluffed her dark hair, gave it a second coat of hairspray and turned to her daughter. "Look, Brooklyn, your daddy isn't going to be around. He wasn't around when you were little-"

"He was in time-out." Little Brooklyn Leto unknowingly crossed her arms and puffed out her chest just as her father did when agitated by bullshit.

Helena's eyes narrowed at her daughter. "He was in prison. Do you know what that is?" The dark haired girl just pouted but didn't reply. Even then, she didn't want to admit her own lack of knowledge. Helena took one last look at herself in the full length mirror before looking back down at her daughter. "Prison is where bad people go when they've done something terrible. Your dad did something very bad and he had to go to prison as punishment. He's not coming back around." With that, Helena grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder and slipped out of the room.

Brooklyn huffed out an annoyed breath and walked through the house until she found her nanny, Lorena. She watched the middle-aged dark haired woman move around the kitchen. "Lore?"

Lorena paused in washing berries to turn and smile at the girl. " _Ola_ , Brooke. Sit, sit. I'm almost done putting together your breakfast."

But like a dog with a bone, Brooklyn wouldn't let the topic of her father rest. "Lore, do you know my dad?"

The woman sighed as she sliced strawberries, letting the pieces fall on top of the yogurt and granola already mixed with blueberries. "I have never met him. I only know what Miz Leto has told me."

"I met him," the little girl declared as her breakfast was placed before her. Her nose wrinkled. "Yogurt."

Lorena sat down at the table and wiped her hands on her apron. Not that they were dirty, just a force of habit. "It's what your mother told me to give you."

Brooklyn pouted and poked her belly. "She said I'm getting tubby."

The apron twisted around and around in Lorena's hands. Her face pinched in agitation when she cursed, low and in her native tongue.

Strawberries, blueberries, granola and yogurt piled onto a spoon. "Mom has picture books." She took the first bite, it wasn't as terrible as it was when her mother would just scoop the plain yogurt into a bowl and expect her to eat it. At least she liked berries. "Do you think she might have a picture of my dad in one?"

The nanny sighed. She needed the job, but there was a terrible sadness in her small charge. One picture, if they could just find one picture maybe that would keep the girl content for just a little while. "We can look." She twisted the apron yet again. "But if we find one, you must keep it hidden."

The girl smiled. "Our secret."

::

And find a picture they did. "That's him, that's him!" Brooklyn pointed to the one in the photo album. A little younger, sitting on his motorcycle, face in profile. A very Quinn smile graced her lips.

"Your daddy is handsome," Lorena decided with a quick smile. She carefully took the picture and prayed that Helena wouldn't notice.

With the picture in her hand, Brooklyn felt more connected to the father she'd never known. Yet, in the back of her mind her mother's words replayed. "Mom said he did bad things."

Lorena took a deep breath. "Well, we all do bad things at some point. How we handle what comes after shows who we are. Your daddy got out and then he came to see you." She smiled when the little girl did. "We must learn to forgive-"unfortunately, Brooklyn was no longer listening, but maybe if she had, she would have learned how important forgiveness is. Maybe those words coming from her trusted nanny would have inspired her to open up and forgive instead of close down and calculate what is owed.

::

Two weeks later he did come around again. The booming knocks on the door startling both her and Lorena during the early afternoon. Once the shock settled, Brooklyn grinned widely. Lorena was the one to open the door but Brooklyn darted around her legs. "Dad. You came back."

"You bet." Rane gave the little girl a big smile. "I had some business that kept me, but I'm back now."

"Cool." She grabbed his hand and pulled him in. "This is Lore. She's my nanny. Lore, this is Dad."

Lorena twisted her apron. "You shouldn't be here. If Miz Le-"

"Lemme deal with Helena," Quinn said, cutting the woman off. He crouched down and studied his daughter. "So, what do you do around here for fun?"

Perhaps not the best question for a girl of her age. She had taken to braiding small bits of his hair, but since she was chatting away he sat still and listened. She talked about her dolls, and the dance classes she was set to start. She talked about school, the kids and the teachers, the work and the playground. "What do you do for fun, Dad?"

The sudden shift from her to him left him uncomfortable. "Well, I ride my bike."

"I don't have a bike," she confessed while nearly pulling out his hair with the brush. "Other kids at school have bikes. This kid, Jimmy, in my grade, he can ride on two wheels."

He chuckled. "Not that kind, I ride a motorcycle."

"You ride a loud bike!"

"Yeah, they're loud."

"Cool. Hey, maybe you can teach me to ride a bike. Mom says she doesn't have time for that."

He pulled her in for a hug, unable to resist. He hadn't expected the kid to be so welcoming toward him. "Sure, I can do that."

She smiled and hugged him back. "Cool."

::

Brooklyn Leto never learned how to ride a bike. In fact, she would only see her father one more time during her childhood. The 'big shit-hitting-fan' (as Lorena called it) happened and ended any further plans.

Lorena had cooked dinner, a real snazzy one. Helena had dressed with a purpose. The purple dress hugged her curves but flared at the hips and ended a few inches short of her knees. Dark chestnut hair was pulled up into a classy up-do. She had her manicure was freshly done, as was her pedicure, shown off in a pair of beige peep-toe pumps. A few spritz of a sweet perfume created a cloud of seduction. Her lips had curved into a wicked smile and her eyes held plans. Brooklyn herself wore a nice dress and tights, she didn't understand all the fuss.

"There, everything is set, Miz Leto," Lorena said wiping her hands on her apron. "I'll get out of your hair." Helena ignored the hired help and tasted the food. Smiling, she dismissed Lorena with a wave of her hand.

Brooklyn waved to Lorena who opened the door only to find herself blocked by a man about to knock. He laughed and Brooklyn groaned, recognizing it. She really, really didn't like this guy. She didn't think that her mom liked him either, last time they'd got in a real big fight and she'd thrown a lamp at him but then he hit her really hard… Brooklyn had snuck back to her room then. The next morning, her mom had a big bruise on her face but they didn't talk about it.

The little girl reached out and tugged on her mother's dress. Helena brushed the child off. "Not now. Behave yourself, understand?" She huffed out a breath. Leto and Quinn in her blood- there wasn't much chance of that happening.

"Dale, good to see you," Helena said pleasantly. "Please, do come in." And he did, he came in like he owned the place and kissed her square on the lips.

Brooklyn shook with fury. She watched as her mother waved away her nanny yet again. Lorena looked torn and when her eyes met Brooklyn's, her heart filled with sorrow. She turned her back and walked out, shutting the door behind herself.

Dale's dark eyes trailed over Helena's body. "Looks good enough to eat."

"Oh you," she smiled flirtatiously. "Dinner first."

The dinner table had been set up with a navy blue table cloth. Three candles sat in the middle creating what Brooklyn considered to be a creepy glow on everyone's faces. She picked at her food, pushed it around her plate while her mother and Dale talked. She felt the little flick on her arm and turned to her mother.

"Dale paid you a compliment, honey, weren't you listening?"

"No."

Helena huffed out an annoyed breath, but Dale gave the girl an indulgent smile. "I said you look very beautiful, so much like your mother."

Brooklyn felt the little nudge under the table and her eyes narrowed. "Thank you," she said with a severe attitude.

Dale sat back in his seat, assessed her before turning to Helena. "You really should fix that smart mouth of hers."

"She's just a little girl," Helena replied while topping up her wine glass.

"Mouthy little girls become insolent women."

"I said 'thank you!'" Brooklyn snapped and in the corner of her eye she noticed her mother sitting a little straighter.

"Listen you disrespectful little bitc-"

It was as far as he got before Brooklyn picked up her plastic cup of apple juice and threw it at him. It missed, but some of the juice hit his sleeve. His face became red, and the vein in his temple visibly throbbed. "Screw you!" she shouted. She'd heard it on TV once and had been saving it for a good occasion (although, in her mind, that occasion would be on the playground, and not with her mother in listening distance.)

"Here," Helena pushed Dale's wineglass closer. "Have a drink. I'll get more napkins."

He picked up the glass and threw it past Brooklyn, who screamed. The glass shattered on the wall, red wine dripping down the wall and on to the hardwood floor.

The door opened with such force it slammed against the wall. Helena checked her watch, right on time. He always could be counted on to be punctual.

Dale stood and turned around. "Who the fuck are you?"

Rane Quinn stood there, taking in the scene. The tension in Helena (who had called him and asked him to come over for a civil dinner- for Brooklyn's sake), the shattered wine glass, the irritated man. He would have been able to dissect the scene and see it for what it was- a set up- if not for his terrified daughter sitting in the middle of it.

"Hey!" Dale snapped his fingers. "I asked you a question, asshole."

Brooklyn stood on her chair and threw her fork at the man's back, it made contact. "Don't call him an asshole, you asshole!"

Dale turned around, but Helena quickly stepped between him and her daughter. Her daughter off script had not been part of the plan. The back of Dale's hand stung as it connected with Helena's cheek, knocking her back, her hip hitting the dinner table.

From then on, well… the big shit hit the fan.

Fists flew as the two men grappled and exchanged blows. Helena quickly called the police. Brooklyn shouted for her father before being gathered up in her mother's arms and being pulled out of the way of the fist fight. "Don't worry, the police are coming."

It took seven minutes, but the police did arrive- and arrested both Dale and Quinn. The sight of the cuffs on her father's wrists built up Brooklyn's fury. Her dad had come in and protected her and her mommy! "Mom, they can't take dad!"

"Yes they can."

"No!"

"Ma'am," one of the officers came over and frowned at the blossoming bruise on her cheek. "Can you give me the gist of what happened here? I understand you told my partner you'd rather come in tomorrow to give your full statement."

"It's been a trying day," she said, her hand fluttering over her heart. "And I have such a young daughter…and tonight has been," her voice broke and tears came to her eyes. "Very stressful for both of us."

"I understand, ma'am." He nodded. "Just give me enough to book 'em for the night."

"Well, we were having dinner, Dale, my daughter, and I. Rane came in without invitation. He's an ex. A very dangerous man."

"Dad isn't dangerous!" Brooklyn protested loudly. "He protected us!"

"Brooklyn, please, go to your room."

"No! Dad didn't do anythi-"

"Room, Brooke!"

She turned and walked away. Her mother was a big fat liar! Dad was going to get in big trouble for just protecting them! She pulled the photograph she kept between her mattress and box-spring. The picture of her father, the one thing she had of him. Hugging it close, she promised herself she'd remember every detail of the night. Her dad wasn't a bad man- no matter what her mom said.

Despite the fact that her father had been the one to make the promise, she always would blame her mother for never learning how to ride a bicycle.


	13. Fawn-Two

The deserted hallway of the school gave Fawn the chills. She sat alone on an orange plastic chair outside of her classroom. All the other children were outdoors playing for their hour long recess. Her teacher had left to contact her mother, even after Fawn had warned Ms. Clearworth that her mother wouldn't take a call at work. Ms. Clearworth then declared, 'well, if your mother doesn't answer, I'll have to call your father.' The eight year old girl didn't know which would be worse, her mother having to leave work, or her father coming.

She shifted in the uncomfortable seat when she heard a pair of footsteps coming down the hall. Her eyes remained glued on her dirty sneakers, afraid that regardless of who Ms. Clearworth had dragged down to the school, she'd be in very big trouble.

"Fawn," Ms. Clearworth's authoritative voice cut through the silence. "In the classroom, please."

Taking a steading breath, Fawn looked up to find Ms. Clearworth, and her father. Despite her worries, she did feel a little better seeing him. His jeans and t-shirt made him look no different from the other dads, although she bet that her teacher knew he rode with the Sons of Anarchy. Everyone did. He gave her a reassuring smile, and took her hand. "Come on, Fawn."

She stood, and walked into the classroom, her hand still grasping her father's. Ms. Clearsworth gestured to the two chairs she'd pulled up to the front of her desk before she sat down behind her imposing desk. "I'd like to thank you again for coming here, Mr. Trager." She didn't sound particularly thankful, in fact, she sounded down right angry. "As I'm sure you have other business-" Fawn didn't care for the way Ms. Clearworth said 'business' either, like it left a bad taste in her mouth,- "to attend to. I regret to inform you that your daughter's behaviour here in the classroom is above reproach." Fawn wished her teacher wouldn't use odd words that she didn't understand, but from the tone, she got the point.

"So, what did she do?" Tig asked, growing impatient with the irritating woman.

"She stabbed a classmate in the hand with a number two pencil."

Fawn bit down on her lower lip, her dark eyes turning to her father. She expected his face to get red, like her mother's did when she got angry, she expected the boil of anger, and instead it appeared that her father was putting a herculean effort into not laughing.

"Stabbed a classmate," he said, his fist over his mouth as he coughed in attempt to cover up the resulting laughter. "With a number two pencil." And he lost it.

Fawn stared in a mix of awe, and horror. He couldn't do that! You can't just laugh at a teacher, especially when getting in trouble!

"Sorry, sorry," he said as he collected himself. He chuckled again before wiping a tear from his eye.

"As you should be!" Ms. Clearworth scolded. "This is a very serious offense. Your daughter will be suspended from classes for three days."

"Three days?" Tig shook his head. "What did this punk ass kid do?" When Ms. Clearworth didn't answer right away, he turned to Fawn. "Who'd you stab?"

"Johnny Stamcose," she replied as she wrung her hands.

Her father's blue eyes narrowed. "Why?"

She took a deep breath, and then shrugged. "He called mommy a bad name."

"What name?" She shot a nervous glance at her teacher; and he leaned into her and pointed to his ear. She shifted and whispered. Tig sat back up in his chair again, the humour gone. "Is Johnny Whats-his-face in trouble?"

"Of course not!" Ms. Clearworth replied, pushing the wire-rimmed glasses further up her nose. "He went to the nurse to get the lead out of his hand."

"So he can call my ex a whore," Tig slammed his fist on the desk, causing the teacher to jump. "He can say _that_ to my _daughter_ , and nothing happens to that little shit?"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Trager!" Ms. Clearworth stood up in attempt to regain control over the parent/teacher meeting. "There is no proof that Johnny said any of those things, and if your daughter takes after you in the least, it wouldn't be so farfetched to believe she would hurt him."

"You fucking bitch-"

"It's a three day suspension," the middle-aged teacher shouted over him. "Take your daughter, and get out of my classroom. One more word, and I'll make that suspension a week!"

Fawn reached out, and grabbed her father's hand. "Come on, let's go." She could see her father's rage, but didn't want to get into any more trouble. Her mother would be furious at the suspension, regardless of its cause since she would either have to take time off work, or shell out for a babysitter. He relented, followed her out of the class, down the hall, and out of the school's front doors.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs, and pulled out a cigarette. "Martina's going to be pissed." He lit the cigarette, and took a deep drag.

Fawn knew this already, she didn't look forward to her mom coming home from work to find out what happened. "I'm sorry," she said, the words just barely passing through her lips. Her throat felt tight, and her eyes burned, threatening tears.

"Don't be," he replied as he led her through the parking lot. "That little shit had it coming. I'll talk it out with your mom."

"I can't go home."

"Sure you can, you're going to ride with me," he said pointing down the line of cars to where his motorcycle sat.

"No. Dawn can't walk home from school by herself."

"Don't worry, I'll come, and pick her up."

Fawn eyed the monster machine with fearful eyes. "Dawn is too little for this. I'm too little."

"Trust me, Baby Girl." He scooped her up, and balanced her on the back, her feet just reaching the passenger foot pegs. "Can you hold yourself there?"

"I think so," she replied, keeping her legs straight, and holding onto the seat with a tight grip. Her father carefully placed a helmet on her head, one he'd picked up recently in a smaller size than his own. He adjusted the chin straps, and checked to make sure it was firmly in place, before getting on the motorcycle himself.

"Alright, kiddo," he looked over his shoulder and smiled at the brunette hair hanging out under her little helmet. "You got one job," he told her, grabbing both her hands, and pulling her close, wrapping those arms around his chest. "Hold on tight!" Her little arms tightened, nails digging into the fabric of his t-shirt. "You ready? I'm going to start the bike, and it's going to be loud."

With her face pressed against her father's back, her arms wrapped as tightly around him as she could manage, she nodded. Loud indeed! The sound masked the thudding of her panicked heart. For a moment, the fear seemed too much, she didn't want to be on the big, and scary motorcycle- but then it moved.

Exhilarated, she opened her eyes as they passed other cars in the lot, and stopped at the road.

"You okay?" He shouted over the noise.

"Yes!" She shouted, her arms shaking with her excitement. "Dad, go fast!"

She felt his laughter more than she heard it as the motorcycle lurched, and thundered down the road. The world had become no more than an insignificant blur, and the only things that were still solid in her reality were the motorcycle, and her father. In that half-hour she drove around with her father, she had no fear, no worries, no responsibilities, she was weightless, flying _, free._


	14. Trinity-Two

The little bottle of bubbles entertained the young girl sitting in the park. Perfect spheres glistened in the sunlight as they floated away, and like everything perfect, eventually burst. Trinity adjusted her doll, Saoirse, under her arm and sat a little further back on the bottom of the bright orange slide. A gentle breeze swept through, rustling the leaves of the tall oak trees that lined the play area.

Her mother sat on the bench, staring off into space until the sound of a car drew their attention. Fiona got out of the car, and out of the backseat came the little Kerrianne. Trinity waved at her young friend, and the little girl abandoned her mother to run over. "Hi," she greeted a little breathlessly when she stood beside the slide.

"Hi," Trinity replied distractedly. Her eyes followed Fiona across the sandbox till she joined Maureen on the bench. Both women looked impossibly tired for eleven in the morning. When she turned to Kerrianne, she noted that the dark skinned girl also had eyes on their mothers. The two young lasses had an understanding that something around them was happening. They just didn't have any idea that the storm clouds of life were rolling in, thunderous, and violent.

"Want to play Princesses in the castle?" Kerrianne asked. The game of pretend became an escape from the troubling thing which they couldn't grasp. Her sneakers sunk in the sand as she bounced from foot to foot with excess energy.

Trinity nodded before putting the cap on her bubbles, she passed Saoirse to Kerrianne, who carried the baby doll reverently. "Kerri, where is Filip?"

"Daddy?" Kerrianne shrugged while leading the way. "Work, I guess."

Trinity frowned, still sensing the wrongness. She'd feel better with Filip around. She always did like the funny man with a big laugh, always felt safe around him. Not that she'd expected him here at the park, it was a rare occasion when he could come, so the playdate was no different than any other Wednesday morning. Their mothers were in deep conversation, but this time there was no laughter or book exchanges going on. It just felt strange. She turned to her friend and confidant. "How's your mom?"

"Okay?" Kerrianne replied with a shrug.

Irritated by the girl's inability to answer with more, Trinity climbed the later to the play structure, what they saw as their castle. "My mom locks all the doors and double checks the windows at night." She waited to see if Kerrianne would say anything. She didn't. Instead she held the doll over her head so Trinity would grab her, and then climbed up the small ladder herself. Together, they walked up the little staircase to the highest point of the structure and sat down. "Did you notice anything weird?"

"Da wasn't home to tuck me in, Ma didn't sing any lullabies," Kerrianne replied after a long moment. "But I'm not a baby, so it's okay. I had Teddy."

Trinity sighed. She'd turned seven a while back and thought that this should bring her some kind of immense knowledge, a better understanding of the world. Instead, it just left her with the feeling of something being not quite right.

Since she couldn't understand it, it slipped out of her mind, a child's defense to something to big comprehend. "Princess Kerrianne, want to go down the slide?"

Kerrianne let out a delighted laugh. "Yes! Let's play!"


	15. Ellie-Three

Having a father who is a Son means something in Charming. Ellie Winston can't be so sure of whether it's a good thing, or a bad thing. It kind of depends on the day.

During the big summer festivals, it's joyous. (Free rides, prizes she didn't really win, and all Gemma's homemade cookies she could eat. Jax would go on the rides her mom wouldn't, or would hang out with Kenny when mom did go with her.)

During school days, it's hit and miss. (On some days, kids want her on their team for a game of dodgeball- a kid of a Son must be cool. On other days, kids give her a wide birth, fearful of something they'd heard through their parents. On odd days, kids are downright mean- this is the second day in a row a boy in her class has knocked her snack from her hand and mushed it into the classroom carpet.)

During parent/teacher interviews, it's embarrassing. (She has to sit there while her teacher makes up things, praises her highly, stutters, and flounders with notes. Dad not being there doesn't matter, the last name Winston is tacked at the end of Donna's name, and that name brings the nerves as though her father sat in the room with them.)

During MC parties, it's a burden. (Ellie doesn't understand the need for such noise, all the music, and chatter. She goes because it's expected, because her mom asks her to- for her dad- some kind of show of face, to show that they still support him. [Furthermore, Ellie doesn't understand _that_ either. She's heard her mother's angry tirades about the club- about wanting her husband to leave it once he's out of prison, so why support it?] She smiles politely, answers when spoken to, but tries to keep to herself. Mostly, she just wants to go home.)

During birthdays, it's pretty awesome. (While she is sure the guys don't remember such things, Gemma does, and especially since her dad is gone, they all came together and bought her a bike. [So, she's pretty sure it's a boys bike, but a bike is a bike.] Jax put the training wheels on, and told her, "Once Ope is out, we'll teach you to ride two wheels." And she likes that, that promise of time spent with her father, and Jax.)

During holidays, it's either really good, or really bad. (Thanksgiving is amazing. Gemma made a big dinner, and had baked every kind of pie imaginable. Christmas is a quiet, stay-at-home affair, which is nice, but at the same time, kind of lonely- and after presents, mom goes to her room. Ellie can still hear her crying as she plays with the new toys. It hurts her heart.)

Having a father who is a Son means something in Charming. Ellie Winston can't be so sure of whether it's a good thing, or a bad thing. She just knows that she really wants her dad back.


	16. Kerrianne-Three

The six year old laid on her belly while she coloured a picture for her da. She selected the picture of the silly frog because she thought it would make her da smile. Da didn't smile much anymore. When he came home from work, it was always late. More often than not these days he would come home after she'd been put to bed, and be gone again before she woke. Sometimes he would leave little notes for her, or sometimes she'd find Teddy sitting on the counter with a little bag of candy, or propped up on the sofa with one of her movies. She knew it was her father's way of being around when he couldn't but it made her terribly sad.

She selected a pink crayon and carefully coloured the tongue, doing her very best to stay inside of the lines. The door opened without a knock and she quickly sat up, excitement rushing through her. She blinked a few times as her heart dropped down into her stomach. Jimmy.

Kerrianne turned away, returning her attention to her colouring book. She really didn't like Jimmy. It didn't matter that he and her ma were friends, it didn't matter that he worked with her da, she didn't like him. She still tried to be polite, less she get a stern talking to from one of her parents, but deep down she just wished he wouldn't come around anymore.

"Hello, Lassie."

The sound of his voice grated on her. More, she hated it when he called her 'Lassie.' She looked up at him and forced a smile. "Hi, Jimmy."

He crouched down and the scent of his cologne tickled her nose. It wasn't an unpleasant smell, but she'd associated it with him and grew to detest it. "That's a lovely picture."

"It's for my Da."

He gave her a tight smile. "Is that so?"

"Aye. Ma is in the garden," Kerrianne told him, desperate to have his attention turn elsewhere. "Would you like me to get her?"

"No, I'll go out and see her," he replied. She expected him to just leave, but he ran his hand over her head. "You take after your ma." She didn't know how to respond, so she remained silent. Finally, he stood and headed out the back door.

Quickly, the young girl packed up all her crayons into the little pencil case, tucked Teddy under her arm and grabbed her colouring book. She carried everything down the hall and went into the sanctuary of her room. She figured even if her ma and Jimmy came inside, this would buy her some time alone. She put everything on her bed, but through the open window facing the back yard she could hear her ma laughing. She looked out to see her ma on her knees, planting some of the annuals, Jimmy standing to the left of her. She couldn't figure out what about the scene set her off, but there was anger brewing inside. She shut her window and climbed up on her bed.

Returning to the page she'd been working on, Kerrianne dumped out her crayons and continued her masterpiece.


	17. Indiana-Three

"Woah, woah, wooooah!" Indiana glared at her father, legs slightly spread, hands on hips, like she was some cowboy in an old west movie ready to pull a sidearm and fire. "What do you mean you're not coming with me?"

"School is for kids, I already went to school," Quinn tried to explain as gently as possible. "You were so excited earlier."

"But then you were coming with me," Indiana whined. "I want you to come with me!"

"I can't. School is your business now, and we take care of business, right?"

"No! I don't want to take care of business! I want to stay with you, or with Tink, can Tink come?"

"No, she can't." Quinn quickly checked his watch before redirecting his attention back to his daughter. "You're going to make new friends your own age, and learn lots of cool things from your teachers, and play during recess."

"I don't want to!"

"Well you have to," Quinn replied. He hated to be so hard on her, especially when he saw the fear in her eyes. "Come on, shoes are on, here is your backpack." He held it out but she crossed her arms over her chest. He huffed out a breath. "Indie, don't give me a hard time about this. I have things to do today, so come on, we have to have you outside and waiting for the bus. I need you to do this for me." She grabbed the backpack, and he helped her get it on. "You're going to have a good time."

"No, I won't."

::

Indiana stood beside her father at the end of their driveway. Her tummy felt icky, and her hands were all sweaty, so she wiped them off on her polka-dot skirt. "Are you sure I have to go?" she whined.

"Yes, you have to go to school." Unbeknownst to Indiana, her father wasn't having any easier of a time. His baby girl was going off to kindergarten and he had all the same separation anxiety as most parents. Mostly, he tried to remain tough because there was a soft spot in him that kind of wanted to cry.

She remained silent until the bus pulled up. She took in a deep breath, and without a word, climbed the huge stairs up into the bus. She sat down and stared out the window at her father. He gave her a smile and waved. She frowned, but waved back.

::

The classroom of children finger-painted at big circular tables. Indiana tried to keep to herself, stubbornly wanting to keep from liking school. A girl to her left started talking about Disney princesses and Indiana found herself drawn into the conversation.

It was those girls she played with at recess on the big jungle gym. She enjoyed the climbing on all the different ladders, and going real fast down the slide. The girls ran around giggling until the school bell rang.

Inside, their teacher had them sit in a big circle as she read them a book. After which, they started math, which Indiana loved. Other kids got a little confused, some started looking at their fingers trying to add. Indiana just got it. She had long ago learned her numbers with her dad, and even started simple math puzzles in educational books Tink picked up from the store. Math just made sense.

::

Her dad was waiting at the end of the driveway when the bus pulled up. Indiana held onto the railing as she made her way down the big steps, jumping from the bus to the gravel driveway. "Hi Dad."

"Hey, Little Anarchist, how did your day go?"

"I took care of business," she told him, not really wanting him to know how much she'd enjoyed herself.

"Did you make any friends?"

"I don't know, I guess a few." She shrugged. "Lauren and Claire were nice. We played at recess."

He let out a small sigh of relief. "That's good. Do you like your teacher?"

"Mrs. Potts is nice."

He ruffled his daughter's hair. "You did a good job today, Indie."

She looked up at him. "Do I have to go again tomorrow?"

"Yeah, you do."

Indiana just nodded, but secretly, she felt excited.


	18. Brooklyn-Three

Only a few days after her father was arrested for punching Dale, Brooklyn's nanny, Lorena leveled with her. 'Miz Leto had been seeing Mr Quinn for a while, tempting him to a family life, I think he stuck around because he wants to see you. Miz Leto found out that he got another woman pregnant. She wanted to hurt him, so she had him arrested, also got rid of that little 'Dale' problem.' Adult problems weren't really something Brooklyn understood. What she got out of it was that her dad had done something to anger her mom and her mom had gotten even.

She turned six, and then seven, and now eight, and the only time she saw her father was in the hidden photograph she still kept between her mattress and boxspring. She stood on her bed, looking out the window, watching the big snowflakes fall from the sky. Her father had once told her that they didn't get snow in California. She thought that was a shame. How did they know when Christmas was coming? Memories of her father seemed to slip through her fingers like water, no matter how hard she tried to hold them, they trickled away.

The bedroom door opened and her mother stood in the doorway. "What are you doing?"

"Just looking at the snow," Brooklyn replied softly.

Helena huffed out a breath. "Your hair is a damn mess. Come on, we have to get ready to go."

"Do I have to?" the eight year old girl whined. She didn't want to go to some stupid Christmas party, hosted by her mother's friends. There probably wouldn't be any kids her age, and her mother had already told her to be on her very best behaviour.

"Yes!" Helena snapped. She quickly brushed out her daughters wild hair, curled it in a style that complimented her own. "There, perfect. Come on, dress and shoes, I don't want to be too late."

"A dress?" the girl whined yet again.

"Don't argue with me Brooke!" Helena pulled a blue dress from the closet and fit it over the girl's head. She tugged it down to length she turned her daughter around and struggled with the zipper. "Jesus. Suck it in!" Brooklyn tried, pulling in her belly and holding her breath as her mother yanked on the zipper. "Fuck! There is no way this is going to fit!" Brooklyn frowned, but lifted her arms when told. Her mother pulled the dress off and tossed it on the floor. Helena shook her head, and looked her daughter over. "We're going to have to do something about your eating habits. You're getting fat." With that, she returned to the closet.

Brooklyn swallowed hard and tried her best not to cry. Her mother hated tears. She couldn't help it though, the tears came. Her eyes became red, as tears streamed down her face. She sniffled and ran her hand under her nose.

Helena shook her head, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Now you're fat and ugly. Stop crying."

Of course, all this did was encourage more tears from the young girl.

"I don't have time for this. Lorena's already gone home for the night. Just stay in your room. Go to bed. I'll lock the door."

"No, no!" she latched onto her mother's leg. "Don't leave, don't leave me. I'll stop crying," she wailed. "Please, I'll be pretty, I'll be skinny. I promise."

"Neither of those things can happen right now," Helena said putting distance between her and her daughter. "Bed, Brooklyn. I'll deal with you in the morning. I have to go."

Brooklyn stayed in her room, even after she heard the front door slam shut. Alone. Alone in the big house all on her own. She pulled on her favourite pajamas, and pulled the photograph of her father out from under her mattress. "Where are you, Daddy?" She sniffled, and fell to sleep with the image of her father on his bike hugged to her chest.


	19. Fawn-Three

Fawn sat on the front lawn. Her sister sat beside her, blowing bubbles that floated around for a while before popping. Their mother hadn't come home after work, and when it got dark and their stomachs started to rumble, Fawn had made sandwiches, later, she'd put her sister to bed. She expected her mother to be back in the morning, but she hadn't been.

"Do you think Mom will be gone like Dad?" Dawn asked, turning to her older sister for the answers of the universe.

"No," Fawn replied. "Mom will be back." Truth was, this wasn't the first time this happened. Usually their mother would come stumbling in during the early morning hours though. Once though, she hadn't returned for three days- that time had really scared Fawn. Now, it became nearly normal.

"Should we call Dad? Maybe he'll take us for ice cream."

"No," Fawn said sternly. Their father hadn't been around in over six months, and Fawn was personally pissed about it. Those brief moments with their father always left her with such hope, only her hope was like delicate spun glass in a room full of excited puppies- destined to be smashed. "Let's go in. There is ice cream in the freezer."

"That's Mom's!" Dawn replied.

Fawn shrugged. Right now, she didn't give a damn about the stupid rules. Moms were supposed to be around to enforce them, and since she wasn't, Fawn figured that left her in charge. And really, who leaves a nine year old in charge and expects ice cream to still be in the freezer when they get home?

A couple of boys stopped on their bikes. Fawn recognized them from school. Jack sat behind her in class, the other boy looked like his brother, Cody, and the last one would be one of Cody's friends, Tyler. She didn't like Jack, he often pulled her hair during class, or poked her with his pencil. "Hey Fawn!" Jack called with a stupid grin.

"Let's go," Tyler insisted, leaning on the handlebars of his bike. "Girls are stupid. They can't do anything."

"Can so!" Fawn snapped, standing up, putting her hands on her hips. Hadn't she spent half of yesterday watching her little sister? Hadn't she made sure they were fed this morning, dressed, teeth brushed and everything? Girls could do plenty!

"You're in a dress! Girls can't even play in dresses!" Tyler shouted back.

"Girls can play in dresses," Dawn replied, standing up beside her sister. "I play in my dresses all the time."

Cody laughed, "And I've seen your underpants, Daaawn!"

"Oh yeah?" Dawn twirled around and flashed him her polka dotted panties. "And they're super cute!"

The boys laughed and Fawn quickly pulled her sister upright. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Just underpants," Dawn replied with a half shrug. "You guys want ice cream?"

At that, the boys changed their teasing tune and looked to each other. Cody shrugged and turned back. "Yeah, okay."

::

Fawn didn't really understand how she'd ended up with three boys in the house. She'd scooped the ice cream, and the boys had offered to share their candy stores from their backpacks. Big scoops of Rocky Road were coated in Gummy Worms, Sour Patch Kids, and Smarties, which they carried into the living room and sorted through the VHS collection trying to find something they could agree on to watch.

When they finally settled _Homeward Bound_ and found spots on the couch and floor to sit on. Jack sat next to Fawn and offered more Sour Patch Kids. She bit her bottom lip and took an extra handful, he smiled.

"I think Smarties should go on everything from now on," Dawn said, taking another big scoop of ice cream.

"I think we should all have ice cream for lunch for now on," Cody said and they all laughed. Their parents, if they knew, would be furious with them, and for the scattered group of kids aged five to ten they revelled in the freedom, in the rebellion.

The children set their bowls aside when done, continued to watch the movie while scarfing down candy until they all had at least a little bit of a stomach ache. The credits started to roll, and Jack looked around. "Where are your parents? Don't you guys have a babysitter?"

"No, because girls are more grown up than boys," Fawn said tilting her chin up.

"Are not!" Cody argued.

"Are so," Fawn spat back. "That's why we stay home alone."

"Yeah, well we can ride our bikes alone! You can't even ride a bike!"

No, she couldn't, she didn't even own a bike. "So what," Fawn said. "Bikes are stupid. I've ridden on the back of a motorcycle!"

"You're lying!" Tyler said with utmost certainty.

"It's true!" Fawn snarled. "My daddy rides a motorcycle, and I've ridden on it with him!"

"Yep, she did," Dawn said, coming to her sister's defense. "And that's way cooler!"

"Whatever," Cody said. "We're leaving."

Jack seemed reluctant at first, and then nodded. "Yeah, we're leaving," he gave Fawns hair a pull and then followed the older boys out.

Dawn picked up a bag of forgotten candy. "Boys are stupid."

Fawn watched from the window as Jack, his brother, and his friend rode away from the house. "Yeah, they are," she said, but her heart wasn't in it.


	20. Dawn-Three

The intense pain woke her from a dead sleep and forced her to cry out. It hurt so bad! "Mom! Mom!"

The lamp, which sat on the bedside table between the two twin sized beds, turned on. Fawn slipped out of her own bed. "What's wrong?"

"Tummy hurts," Dawn cried. "It hurts real bad!"

Fawn nervously chewed on her bottom lip. "I'll see if Mom is home."

"Wait," Dawn sat up a little. "I'm going to be sick."

"Okay, okay," Fawn helped her sister up, but they didn't even make it out of the room before Dawn bent over and vomited all over their carpet. "It's okay," Fawn insisted, pulling her sister to the bathroom where she continued to cry. "Sit," she ordered, helping her sister to sit near the toilet. She grabbed a little paper cup and filled it with water. She passed it to her sister. "Rinse."

Dawn did as her sister ordered, she trusted Fawn completely.

A few seconds later, Fawn gently ran a cool face cloth over Dawn's face. "Here, take it," she ordered. "I'm going to go see if Mom is here."

Dawn watched her sister leave, her hand over the horrible stabbing pain. The cool cloth stayed against her cheek, and it made her feel a little less feverish. She listened to the sound of Fawn running around the house, trying to find their mother. Dawn had a horrible sinking feeling. Often, their mother worked nights, they would be home alone. When Fawn came back alone, Dawn knew they were.

"I called her work," Fawn said. "They said she already left." She chewed on her bottom lip. It was well past midnight, and their mother should have been back by then. Neither girl knew what their mother did when she didn't come home, neither wanted to ask. Now, they were on their own.

"Dad?" Dawn asked through the tears. "Did you call Dad?" She saw the look on Fawn's face, the annoyed look.

"No. I didn't. He hasn't been here in-"

"Please, please call him," Dawn sobbed. "It hurts so bad!"

Fawn sighed. "Alright." The older girl went to the phone on the wall, and pulled it down. The number for her father had gone out of service a while ago, but the number for the clubhouse he hung out at was among the other numbers on the list tacked on the wall. She dialled and waited.

_"Hello?"_

She didn't know the voice. "Is my dad there?"

_"Who's your-hey shut it!- who's your dad?"_

"Alex Trager."

_"One second, kid. TIG! You got some kid on the line!"_ A pause. _"Look, he's busy, call bac-"_

"Dawn's sick!" Fawn cried out in a panic. "Dawn's sick, and mom isn't home, and I don't know what to do, please, I need to talk to Dad!"

She heard the voice shouting at her dad again, and a minute later, it was her father's voice. _"Who's this?"_

"Fawn. Dad, Dawn's sick, mom isn't home," she told him in a rush. "I called her work but they said she's out, and I don't know when she's going to come home, and I'm scared! Please! You have to come!"

_"I'm sure she's fine,"_ he groaned over the line.

"Dad, please, she's hurting, and she threw up. She's sick."

_"Just a stomach bug, get her to bed with a pail, she'll be fine. I have to go. Oh, yeah, just like that darl-"_ and the line went dead.

Fawn stared at the phone for a few seconds before she slowly hung it up.

"Daddy?" Dawn asked when Fawn returned to the bathroom.

She had such hope, and while Fawn was disillusioned with the world, she didn't want her sister to be as crushed as she. "He wasn't there," she said. "I'll… I'll go over to the neighbo-" she heard the key slide in the lock, and rushed from the room. "Mom! Dawn is sick!"

::

Appendicitis sucks. Dawn looked at the little red mark on her stomach, a mark that would later leave her with a faint scar. A week after being released from the hospital, Dawn ate a bowl of ice cream. Appendicitis did have its perks. Mostly, being able to eat whatever the heck she wanted at the expense of her mother's guilt. Fawn sat beside her with a sandwich.

"You should have ice cream too," Dawn said.

Fawn ran her hand over her sister's curly hair. "I don't need it. I'm just glad you're okay."

Dawn smiled, and rested her head on her sister's shoulder. "Thanks for being the bestest big sister."

"Bestest isn't a word."

"Is now," Dawn argued. "And you're it."


	21. Indiana-Four

The birthday girl, Indiana, sat perfectly still on the bathroom counter. Her father had already cut out the multiple butterfly, and nautical designs, and had them in a pile. He peeled the protective film off a large monarch, and showed it to her. "Where do you want it?"

"Right here," she patted the spot on her bare arm, up by her shoulder.

Quinn placed the temporary tattoo, and grabbed the damp sponge. "Don't move," he ordered while he held the sponge over the paper. A minute later, he removed the sponge, and carefully peeled back the paper leaving behind the bold orange butterfly. "Check it out, Little Anarchist."

A big smile came upon her face as she looked over at the image now adorning her arm. "More!" she demanded.

"Alright, alright," Quinn laughed, and continued his work.

By the end of it, Indiana had a full sleeve of butterflies, anchors, and compasses. "So cool! Down, Dad, I gotta show Tink!" He helped her down, and she ran out the door before he could even start cleaning up. "Tink, Tink," Indiana called as she ran down the hallway. She found Tink in the kitchen, icing cupcakes. "Look!"

Tink set down the icing, and indulged the girl by crouching down and giving a very good inspection of the full sleeve of temporary tattoos. "Wow! So beautiful! You're a little bit of a badass."

Indiana beamed. "Now I got tattoos like you, and like Dad!"

"Yes, you do." Tink kissed the girls forehead. "Would you care to help me ice the cupcakes?"

"Kay!" Indiana rushed to the kitchen table, and climbed up on one of the chairs, sitting on her knees. "Tink, since we're having cupcakes, do I still get candles?"

"Yes, you'll still get your birthday wish, don't worry." Tink brought over the cupcakes, sprinkles, and passed Indiana a piping bag filled with chocolate icing.

"All six candles, right?" Indiana persisted, as she started to squeeze the piping bag. The girl had absolutely no technique, and Tink didn't try to teach it to her. Instead, Indiana giggled as she smothered cupcake after cupcake in the dark icing.

Tink smiled. "Yeah, Indie, all six."

"Oh, wow." Quinn sat down beside his daughter and stared at the mess she had made of the cupcakes, easily distinguished from the almost professional looking cupcakes decorated by Tink.

Indiana licked some stray icing off her thumb, and started to sprinkle the cupcakes, alternating between little red crystals and chunky white flowers. She ignored the knock on the door knowing she wasn't to answer it anyway. She picked up one of the decorated cupcakes, and took a big bite.

"You're supposed to ask," Quinn warned her. "You haven't had dinner yet."

She licked chocolate icing from her top lip and shot him her most innocent look. "But, it's my birthday." She took another big bite. With a shrug, he grabbed one himself. "Dad, you can't have one before dinner. It's not your birthday." He sighed and put the cupcake down. Indiana frowned, and then relented. "Okay, you can eat it." He chuckled, and resumed eating the cupcake.

"Indie," Tink called to get her attention. "Look who's here!"

Indiana smiled. "Hi Martha."

"Happy birthday, Indie," Martha kissed her young charge on the top of the head. She looked over the young girls head at the cupcakes. "Wow, kid, you sure didn't mess around with the icing did you?"

"Nope, I covered every little bit," Indiana replied proudly. "Want one?"

Martha declined, and shot Quinn a dirty look. "Cupcakes are not dinner," she told him.

"It's my birthday," Indiana reminded her, as if the rules of the universe, much less the rules of the household, didn't apply on such an occasion. She eyed the pretty pink bag Martha had brought with her, and tried to keep a lid on her excitement. "Check it out!" She held out her arm, and licked the last of the icing off her thumb.

Martha sucked in a breath. "Christ. For a second I thought it was real."

"Nope, Dad says I can't get a real one until I'm thirty," Indiana replied as she returned to the sprinkles and dusted the untouched cupcakes.

"Thirty, huh?" Tink giggled.

"Thirty," Quinn agreed. "I figure that's also the age I'll allow her to start dating."

Both Martha and Tink cracked up at that. "Oh, I can't wait till she's a teenager," Martha said. "She's going to raise hell, boys will be all over her. I can't wait to watch you flounder through that." Quinn glared at the woman, but had no rebuttal that would be appropriate to say in front of his daughter.

And while the adults considered her teenage years, she quickly started eating another cupcake before anyone could notice.

::

Dinner had comprised of Chicken Nuggets and French Fries- Indiana's birthday choice. After dinner, her godfather Harry arrived with a box messily wrapped in newspaper, and she was finally permitted to open her gifts. Martha had gone practical with new clothes for the constantly growing girl. Tink had gone for girly fun with an array of new nail polish colours, a new hairbrush, and a pack of scented markers to go with the princess colouring book. Harry got her a box of Legos. Her father gave her a new remote control car, (her last one had died after a spectacular crash off the front deck) a model motorcycle for her room, and a denim vest (which she immediately put on.) "What's it say?" she asked, pointing to the specialized patch he'd sewn on the front.

"Little Anarchist."

She beamed. "That's me!"

"That is you," he replied, laughing as she ran up and hugged him. "Happy birthday, Indiana."

"Thanks, Daddy."

More cupcakes followed. "Did you do this?" Harry asked, pointing at the cupcake absolutely suffocated in icing.

"Yeah."

He nodded sharply once. "Solid job, Girl."

::

With the visitors gone, Indiana sat in the tub, trying to keep her tattooed arm out of the water while her father tried to get chocolate cupcake out of her hair. "Jesus Christ, I don't even know how you got so much icing up here." Indiana shrugged, and closed her eyes as her father once again rinsed shampoo out of her hair. "Where is your mouth?" She pointed to it. "That's where cake goes. Where does cake not go?" Indiana giggled and pointed to her hair. "Good, I'm glad we got that cleared up." He huffed out a breath and inspected the head of blonde hair. "There, I think I got it all out."

Indiana hit the plug with her foot, and the sudsy water started to swirl as it drained. She stood and held her arms out as her father helped her dry off and step out of the tub. "Dad, will you paint my nails?"

"No. It's time for bed," he replied, leading her to her bedroom. "Ask Tink tomorrow, she's much better at it." He pulled out the bottom drawer of her dresser. "Now which pajamas do you want?"

"My blue ones."

"Alright." He pulled them out and set them on the bed. She stood still as he rubbed the towel through her hair trying to get it semi dry. "Get dressed." She pulled on her shirt, the green buttons on the front. She stared at the shorts, trying to distinguish which way they went on, but found the tag and turned it to the back.

"Kay," she hopped up onto the bed. "Where is Eddy?"

Quinn pulled the stuffed zombie doll from the top of her dresser and handed it over. "Gotta brush your hair."

Indiana let out a long suffering sigh but sat still while her father worked out the knots, ones he likely caused with how he'd dried her hair. "Ow! Careful!" she whined.

"Sorry," Quinn replied. "Almost done. Did you have a good birthday?"

"Yep, best one yet," she decided.


	22. Trinity-Three

Trinity stared out the window of the gifted Renault 25. The car replaced their last heap of scrap metal. Today, she would meet the man who gave her mother the vehicle. The man who gave her mother lots of nice things. The other day, she came home with a small bouquet of flowers. The time before that, a bracelet. A few weeks ago, she'd gone out for dinner and left her with Uncle Kellan. Her ma spend more time on the phone now, looked lighter, but distracted. Always a little distracted.

"I want you on your best behaviour," her mother said in the front seat. Despite how much Trinity begged, her mother would not yet let her sit up front. 'Too little' she always said. _I'm not little, I'm eight._

Of course her mother wanted her on her best behaviour, it also went with having to wear a stupid dress. Why did she have to wear a dress? You can't play in dresses, that's the rule. You have to sit all lady like. She didn't want to sit lady like. She'd rather be at home in her comfy corduroys and a plush sweater, playing with her toys.

"Are you listening, Trini?"

"Aye."

"Best behaviour," her mother repeated.

"Aye," Trinity muttered back bitterly.

Forever, it had just been her and her ma. Okay, and the occasional side of Uncle K, but he didn't live with them, and he spent a lot of time away. In their third floor walk-up apartment, lived her and her ma. Their own place. Their own world. Ashby's provisions an extension of their space, their world, and the blocks, the church, and the playgrounds in between. Their world. Theirs.

And now, her mother was inviting someone new. Her mother was spending time with someone new. Spending time away from her. Trading time with her for time with this _man_. And to top it off, her mother wanted her to be _on her best behaviour!_ Trinity turned her sour gaze out the window.

::

The backdoor opened, and Trinity got out, straightening out the stupid green dress with the stupid shamrock pattern. She'd worn it to the St. Patrick's Day parade months ago, but Trinity thought that was the only day one could get away with dressing so _Irish_. The sound of a motorcycle rumbled loudly nearby, before it stopped completely. She wanted to shoot a glare at her mother, but when she looked up she found that stupid distracting smile on her face as she stared off.

"Keith," Maureen said walking around the end of the car. "Good to see you."

Petulant, Trinity turned her attention to the restaurant. It looked nice, but not the kind of place that had attention seeking posters and gimmicks for children. Fine. She could be grown up, although she felt a bit of disappointment doubting there would be any colouring pages to keep her distracted from her growling belly.

"So, you must be Trinity," this 'Keith' man said.

Trinity squared her shoulders, and turned to face him. She took in his appearance. He was tall, taller than her ma. His face didn't look old enough for the grey hair he had, even his busy eyebrows were gray. He had a beard- more facial hair than her Uncle Kellan. He wore a plain black t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and work boots. "Aye, I am."

He bent slightly to extend his hand to her, in a very grown up way asking for a handshake. "I'm Keith. It's nice to meet you, Lass."

While still determined to remain standoffish, she did like that he treated her like an adult. She put her much smaller hand in his, and shook it politely. _On her best behaviour,_ just like her ma asked.

He straightened out, "Are you ready for dinner?"

She nodded, and even though her mother offered her a hand to hold, she silently ignored it. Maureen let out a quiet sigh and the three of them entered the restaurant.

As expected, no colouring sheets.

Also, no kids menu.

Her mother offered to order something and then split it, and Trinity had given her a glare. She could order just fine on her own, and she'd eat it all too! Her mother apparently decided to choose her battles, and let the girl order the chicken breast and champ.

Keith and her mother talked, and Trinity tried not to complain. Soon enough the food would come, no matter how long it took, or how many times she thought it never would. Soon enough they'd leave this place, get back into their car, and go home. However, Trinity had doubts about how permanent that would be.

She shifted in her seat, and looked around the restaurant. Lots of couples. No kids as far as her eyes could see. This made her more determined to sit up nice and look adult. And eventually, the food really did come.

Although her mother offered to cut the chicken for her, she refused and sawed at it with the knife. Her height didn't help her get any real leverage and made the job a difficult one. Determined, she continued while Maureen and Keith talked about things that held no interest for Trinity.

"Are you excited for summer break, Trinity?" Keith asked her.

"Not really," she replied. Summer break usually meant months of not seeing her friends, and spending all her time at the Provisions store because her ma said she was too little to stay home alone.

"You must really enjoy your studies then," he said with a small nod.

 _Not really._ "They're okay," she replied. "I like art class the best." She bit her tongue. She didn't want to be friendly, even if he did seem really nice, like Uncle Kellan.

"Ah, so you're a little artist, huh? What's your favourite part of art class?"

She bit her bottom lip, and turned to her ma who was giving her a hopeful look. _Fine,_ she thought, _very best behaviour._ "I like painting, with acrylics. Not watercolour," she specified. "Watercolour runs and makes a mess of the painting. I don't like it."

He smiled, and it made little wrinkles around his eyes. "Maybe someday soon you'll show me your paintings."

 _Best behaviour, best behaviour._ "Aye. Maybe."

::

Trinity yawned widely in the parking lot. Her tummy soooo full she might never eat again. She had determinedly cleaned her plate and Keith had praised her 'healthy appetite' while her mother looked at her worriedly like she might get sick.

"Thank you so much, Keith," Maureen said. "It was lovely." She lowered her voice, but Trinity still heard her. "I think that went well."

"Aye," he said quietly in return. "I think it did."

"Let her ease into this," her mother whispered.

He nodded, and gave her ma a brief kiss. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Keith turned to Trinity. "I look forward to seeing you again, Trinity."

Trinity covered her mouth when she yawned again, she nodded sleepily. "'Kay."

Keith and Maureen shared an amused smile, before she got her daughter buckled into the back seat. "Ready to go home?" The sound of the motorcycle roared, and then slowly started to get quieter.

"Aye."

"Thank you for being so well behaved."

"Aye," Trinity's eyes slowly closed.

::

Trudging up the stairs to their apartment, Trinity felt a little more awake. "You want chocolate pudding? Because I could go for some chocolate pudding," her ma said.

Trinity brightened considerably. "Okay!"

They walked in, removed their shoes and went into the little kitchen, where Maureen pulled out two bowls of pudding pre-made earlier in the day. "Want to sit in the living room?" Trinity nodded. Such a special treat. Things were to be eaten at the table, never in the living room. She took a spot on the couch and her ma sat down beside her.

While Trinity dug into her bowl with excitement, Maureen simply pushed the stuff around with her spoon. "You like saying you're a big girl, right?"

"Aye," Trinity slowed, and then stopped as she stared at her ma.

"Then I want to have a big girl conversation with you, okay."

"Okay."

"You are, and will always be my number one priority, I want you to know that."

"What's a priority?"

"It means that something is very important to take care of." Her mother looked at her with utter sincerity. "What I'm saying is that above all else, you are who I take care of, who I love, who is important."

Trinity slowly nodded and took a small spoonful of pudding, remembering now how full she already was, but the chocolate was too good to resist.

"I'm with Keith, we're a couple. Do you know what that means?"

She huffed out an annoyed breath. "It means you kiss and stuff."

Maureen chuckled. "Well, we do that too, but it means… we care for each other. For me, his happiness is becoming a priority, like mine is for him." Trinity chewed nervously on her bottom lip, and her mother ran her hand over her hair. "But I want you to know, my sweet girl, that you'll always be number one."

That didn't sound too bad. She liked her ma to be happy. "Okay," she said finally, returning her attention to the pudding.

"I've given him the key to our apartment."

Trinity's spoon made a 'ting' sound when it hit the side of the bowl. "You did what?"

"He won't be here all the time, his situation, his work… it's complicated. But, you're going to be seeing him more often. Sometimes, he'll be staying with us."

"No!" Trinity snapped. "No! You can't do that!"

"Trinity," her ma levelled her with 'the look.' "That is more than enough."

Her ma's words earlier no longer held their soothing powers. All the girl could think about was the fact that she was losing her mother to some strange man. "Is he going to get my room too?"

"What? No!" Maureen half-smiled at the absurdity. "No, he'll share my bed when he's here."

"He's going to take you all for himself!"

At that point, her ma's face softened. "Oh, sweet girl, is that what this is about?" Trinity's lower lip started quivering, and she tried very hard to hold back the tears. Her mother scooped her up on her lap and hugged her tight. "You're number one. Forever, okay? No man will change that. But I love him too."

"No, you said," she sniffled, "you said you loved my da!"

Her mother's hug tightened. "Oh, I did, still do, so much. Not a day goes by where I don't think about him, when I don't wish that things had been different. He was the love of my life, but Trini, he's gone, and I'm not. We must move on."

She liked that. _We._

Her ma's thumbs brushed away her tears. "Keith coming in doesn't mean he's taking up my love for you, he's just making my heart bigger."

She liked that too. And maybe, just maybe, her heart could get bigger too.


	23. Indiana-Five

No matter how hard she tried, her little fingers could not get the zipper to pull up. She had insisted she could do it, refused her father's help, and now she struggled with the tiny metal part trying to yank it up. They past week had been a chilly one in Red Willow, and the temperature had only gone further down with all the cloud cover.

Tink and Quinn were inside cleaning up the big mess in Sanctuary, while Indiana had gone outside to play. She felt cold, but didn't want to go back inside for help. Instead, she stubbornly continued her own futile attempts. She wiggled a bit, hopped on one foot like it might help, made a series of faces as she bore down struggling to use pure strength to do up the zipper. She huffed out a breath and found Happy's dark, amused eyes watching her.

"What are you doing, Kid?"

She huffed out an annoyed breath. "My zipper is stuck."

His hand passed over his short, dark hair. Smoke escaped his lips, like a dragon in a fairy tale. He held the cigarette between his lips as he crouched down, he undid the zipper completely, stuck the metal bit in the slot, and gave a good yank. It zipped up mid-way. "There you go."

"What?" She glared at the evil zipper. "How did you do that?"

"It's just a zipper." He stood back up. "Where's Quinn?"

"Inside. Big mess. He said some fucking idiot started a riot." She stared up at him. "What's a riot?"

He snorted. "It's a group of people that get real noisy and damage shit."

"And they're fucking idiots, right?"

"Yeah, but you might want to stop saying the 'fucking' part. Your dad'll ground your ass."

"He said it!" she replied indignantly.

"Yeah, well, he's older."

"That's a stupid rule."

"Deal with it." Happy replied, stalking off toward Sanctuary.

"Deal with it," she repeated in a snotty tone. Her father said she wasn't to go beyond where his bike was parked, in the middle of the lot. That cut out the basketball net. Not that it mattered. She was too small, and didn't have a basketball. But she could have thrown rocks. She liked to throw rocks at the big white back board. There was the picnic table, and the cluster of trees to the far left. She'd make a fort in there. A secret fort. She'd need supplies.

On a mission, Indiana headed to the little shed and found Frankie inside. He gave her a smile. "Hey, Kid."

"Hi Frankie. Whatcha doin'?"

"Working on my bike. She's being a bitch."

Frankie had said the same thing about a woman earlier in the month. Indiana had thought she understood the context of the woman being mean. However, she didn't understand how a motorcycle could be mean. Instead of asking, she nodded like she understood. "I'm going to build a fort." She pointed up high. "I need the tarp."

"Is you dad okay with this?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She gave a half-shrug. "He's cleaning the damaged shit," she said, semi-quoting Happy. "I want to build a fort."

He reached up, grabbed the tarp, and passed it to her. "Whatever."

She tucked it under her arm, and made a bee-line for the trees.

The cluster of trees were close together. Branches were still short enough that she could reach. She put the ringed holes of the tarp on branches above her head. She had a roof. She collected branches and started to pile them between the tree trunks marking the walls of her little fort. She collected dead leaves and put them down to soften the ground. It was turning out great!

Her father crouched down at the entrance. "Hey, Little Anarchist."

"Hey."

"Frankie said I could find you here."

She spread her arms wide, her grin displaying her pride. "Like my fort?"

"It's fantastic," he said with a grin.

"You done cleaning the fu- the idiot's mess?" she asked, remembering Happy to tell her she shouldn't say 'fucking.'

"Yep."

"Want to come in?"

"Looks a little short for me, Kid."

She shrugged. "It's Indie sized."

"It sure is. When you're done playing, just bring the tarp with you, I'll fold it and put it away. Okay?"

"'Kay."

Instead a few hours later, much to her father's amusement, he found her asleep on the bed of leaves.


End file.
